


A Jester's Arrangement

by icarus_chained



Category: DUMAS Alexandre - Works, Valois trilogy - Alexandre Dumas
Genre: Gen, Historical, Obscure fandom is obscure, Recovery, Revenge, Spies, Swords & Fencing, court intrigue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-13
Updated: 2012-04-13
Packaged: 2017-11-03 14:50:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/382521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icarus_chained/pseuds/icarus_chained
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set about six years before the events of <i>Chicot the Jester</i>, shortly after Chicot first comes to court. The Jester and the Captain of the Guard come to an arrangement.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Jester's Arrangement

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know there is no fandom for this series. Do I care? Not particularly. *grins*

"I'm not fooled, you know." 

Chicot stilled, looking up from his contemplation of certain papers to meet Crillon's cold gaze. The Guard Captain glared at him, settled forward on the balls of his feet, his hand on his sword. But from what he had seen of Crillon so far, his hand was _always_ on his sword, saving the presence of the king, so Chicot did not take much offense. 

"Pardon?" he asked, innocently. "Did you want something, Master Crillon?" 

"I said, I am not fooled. Not by you." 

Chicot essayed a confused smile, while warily climbing to his feet. "I don't understand, m'sieur. Who is fooling you?" 

"No-one," the man said, pointedly, and shifted into a more guarded stance. Chicot stilled. "Least of all you, jester." 

"Crillon." Chicot paused, considering how to handle this. He had every respect for Crillon as a guardsman, and most particularly as a swordsman, and had no desire to annoy him into a fight. "What makes you think I am trying to fool you?" he asked at last. 

"You are not stupid." 

Chicot blinked. "Well, no. I did not think so myself, though I am pleased to have the opinion shared ..." 

"Be quiet. I mean you cannot trick me into believing you the fool you pretend to be in court." Crillon growled then, coming forward into the room. "I know your kind, m'sieur. I know a trickster when I see one." 

Chicot frowned, raising his chin as his hand drifted gently to his sword-hilt. "Yes?" he asked softly. 

"Yes. Do not deny it." 

"I have no need to. But why come to me now? I have done nothing to arouse your suspicions, to my knowledge." 

Crillon paused, pacing a little, like a cornered bear. His eyes did not leave Chicot's face, steely and fierce, so that Chicot found himself in a defensive stance almost by instinct. His beating by Mayenne and David, though two months past now, was still fresh enough in his mind that he could not help but react to the perceived threat. The Captain frowned at that. 

"I need your help," the man said at last, brusque and faintly flustered. Chicot stared. 

"Pardon?" 

"You watch people. You see things, and are not seen in turn. You hear things." Crillon paused, grimacing, then turned to face him fully. "There are rumours about. Dangerous rumours. I believe there to be a threat to the king." 

Chicot went still, eyes flat and dangerous. "What manner of threat?" 

"I don't know yet. I don't know. That is why I wish your help." He grimaced, as if the words left a bad taste in his mouth, but went on. "Since you arrived, no-one is closer to the king than you. No-one understands him as well, or can persuade him so easily. Trickster that you are." He grunted distastefully, glaring. Chicot looked back, unimpressed. 

"And so?" he asked, softly. "What do you want of me?" 

Crillon looked at him, thoughtfully. The kind of look that actually saw things, and Chicot shifted uneasily, but held the gaze. "I thought it might be you, at first," the Captain commented, lightly. "So quick to gain his confidence. I thought you were the threat." Chicot stiffened, hand on sword once more. "But you are not, are you?" Crillon went on, something softening in his eyes, something almost like a smile on his weathered face. "I know loyalty when I see it. You mean no harm to the king, for all your weaselling. Do you?" 

"No." Soft as soft, and as much an oath in its way as any formal declaration of fealty. Crillon nodded, satisfied. 

"Then look out for him. Watch his back, since he trusts you at it. Listen, because I know you can. No-one knows more at court than the jester, and no-one is better placed to wield the knowledge, and you ... trickster that you are, Chicot, I know you can wield it effectively. I would ask that you share your knowledge with me, but ..." He smiled, tiredly. "I doubt you would. Too secretive, aren't you?" Chicot said nothing. "Well. No matter. You will defend him, will you not? I can trust you for that?" 

Chicot waited for a moment, letting the seriousness of the question visibly settle on him, then nodded gravely. "You can," he confirmed, and watched the relief on the Captain's features. The man had been genuinely worried. This needed looking into, then. "But Captain? If I am to agree to inform you, perhaps, should something require your attention ... what might there be in it for me?" 

Crillon blinked, then glared. "The knowledge that you've helped your king?" he tried, snarling a little as Chicot merely raised an eyebrow, then shook his head. "Alright. What do you _want_ , you weasel?" 

Chicot smiled, brilliantly, and came over to drape a friendly arm over the Captain's shoulder. "I've been meaning to ask you, as it happens," he confided. "I don't suppose you'd agree to train me with the sword? I've seen you fight, and could do with skill such as that." 

The man stared at him, then smiled, slowly and darkly. "Oh? Well, now, that depends. Are you willing to take a few blows for your efforts, jester? Not going to run crying on me when it gets tough, are you?" 

Chicot looked at him, and watched him grow quiet. "I am willing," he said softly, feeling the marks on his back burn. "And I will not run." And Crillon nodded, and took his hand. 

"Then we have a deal, sir jester. We have a deal."


End file.
